


Petrichor

by prouvaireafterdark



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex Manes' Beagle, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Couch Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alex Manes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29190804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvaireafterdark/pseuds/prouvaireafterdark
Summary: “Look, I may not be a veterinarian, but you don’t need years of specialized training to see that your dog misses her dad,” Kyle says.Alex raises an incredulous eyebrow.“Well, her other dad,” he amends a moment later.***Alex isn't the only one who misses Michael when it rains.aka the Sad Buffy Fic™️
Relationships: Alex Manes & Kyle Valenti, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 31
Kudos: 212





	Petrichor

**Author's Note:**

> Canon compliance? Don’t know her.
> 
> I also don’t fully understand the schematics of Alex’s house, but let’s just pretend I do.
> 
> (This fic has been in my WIP folder for like..... almost a year now, so I hope you guys like it!)

“Your dog’s a little weird, dude.”

Alex sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

Outside, his beagle Buffy has been frantically running around and barking at the air for the last thirty minutes. There’s not a squirrel or bird in sight.

“Is she always like this?” Kyle asks, turning away from the window that faces Alex’s backyard to look at him.

“No, usually she’s pretty mellow,” Alex says, passing him a cup of coffee. He takes a sip from his own mug to stall before he finally admits, “She only gets like this when it rains.”

“Huh,” Kyle says, considering it for a moment before he adds, “Layla always hated the rain. Remember when we used to have to bribe her with peanut butter to get her to go on walks if it was too cloudy?”

Alex remembers. Kyle’s childhood German shepherd was usually fearless, but put her near any liquid that wasn’t in her water dish and she’d run with her tail between her legs.

If only it were that simple with Buffy.

“It’s not the rain that’s making her do that,” he explains, looking down into his mug. “Well, I guess it is, but not—not like you’re probably thinking.”

Kyle processes that a moment before he speaks up.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s up, or am I gonna have to guess?”

Alex sighs again. “She misses Michael.”

Kyle looks skeptical. “How do you know?”

 _Because I miss him too_ , is on the tip of his tongue, but Alex hesitates. As melancholic as the rain makes him, he’s not interested in spilling his guts over it.

“Because Michael smells like rain,” he says instead. “It’s an alien biology thing, apparently, but you probably would know more about that than I do.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Kyle says, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Are you saying she’s looking for him out there right now?”

Alex nods. “She’ll give up in about an hour, but, yeah. She smells rain and she thinks he’s home.”

“That is _so_ fucking sad.”

“I know,” he sighs, and turns around to go find a seat on the couch.

“Like, Sarah McLachlan in those ASPCA commercials level sad,” Kyle continues as he follows him, taking a seat on the other side of the couch. “Wait, did you guys adopt her _together_? Like, as a couple?”

Alex considers how to answer that. “No. We were together—I guess as much as we ever were—when I got her, and he went with me to pick her up from the shelter, but she’s not—he didn’t adopt her _with_ me. He was just around a lot when I first brought her home.”

“Mmm, I see,” Kyle says, understanding. “Maybe you should call him.”

“What?” Alex asks.

“You know, invite him over,” Kyle says, like it’s obvious. “Ask if he wants to come play with her a little.”

“What?” Alex asks again, looking at him like he’s grown a second head.

“Look, I may not be a veterinarian, but you don’t need years of specialized training to see that your dog misses her dad,” Kyle says.

Alex raises an incredulous eyebrow.

“Well, her other dad,” he amends a moment later.

Alex shakes his head. “He’s not—That’s ridiculous.“

“Is it? He was here when she was a puppy, man,” Kyle counters. “They’ve clearly got a strong bond if she’s missing him that bad.”

Alex knows he’s right, but… he can’t just _call Michael_ and ask if he wants to come play with Buffy.

Sure, he and Michael have been on good terms lately—great, even, now that they have a common goal and have learned how to actually communicate without having two totally different conversations.

But, months ago now, Michael asked him to stay away. He told Alex he didn’t want to be with him anymore, that it hurt too much, and Alex understands that, _really_ he does, and he’s been trying _so hard_ to maintain the boundaries Michael wants while still being there for him any way he can.

And if he invites Michael over right now, it won’t be because it’s something _Michael_ needs from _him_. It’ll be because it’s a miserable, rainy day, and Alex and his adorably stupid dog miss him.

And if Alex is being honest with himself… he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he calls Michael and Michael says no. Not right now, not when Michael’s absence in his life, in his _home_ , feels like an ugly, gaping wound.

“Just think about it,” Kyle says. “You never know, maybe he’s been missing her too.”

When Kyle leaves an hour later, Alex registers the quiet and realizes Buffy’s stopped barking. _Finally_ , he thinks, until he goes to the back door and sees her slumped up against the glass, looking absolutely fucking miserable.

“Fuck,” he says, with feeling.

He opens the door and scoops her up off the ground. She’s a little wet from the start of the drizzle, but once she rests her head on his shoulder and huffs despondently he can’t bear to put her back down. He takes her over to the couch and draws the blanket around the both of them, hoping he can cheer her up with enough kisses and pats.

With the smell of Michael so thick in the air, he’s not surprised it doesn’t work.

He stays there with her until hunger beckons him toward the kitchen to make both of them dinner. When Buffy won’t touch her kibble, Alex scoops some leftover grilled chicken, rice, and veggies from his own plate into her bowl. It works, thankfully, but when she’s done she curls up on the floor with a sigh and Alex’s heart breaks just looking at her.

He ends up lying down on the floor next to her, his head cushioned by a pillow he dragged off the couch. The rain really starts coming down outside then, and Buffy starts to whine.

“I know, baby girl,” he says, curling more tightly around her. “I miss him too.”

He’s not sure how long he stays there before his phone buzzes in his pocket. He fishes it out to see a text from Kyle.

_Did you call him yet?_

Alex sighs and rolls onto his back, his hip aching with the movement. He stares at the ceiling for a long moment, weighing the pros and cons, until Buffy huffs a huge, sad sigh again and he just can’t fucking stand it anymore.

“Fuck it,” he says to himself and takes out his phone again.

He doesn’t end up calling Michael. Instead, he texts him a picture of Buffy without a caption.

His phone vibrates a minute later.

_Aww, why’s my girl look so sad?_

Alex isn’t proud of the noise he makes when he reads that. He types his response, then deletes it, and then types it again. Nerves coil tight in his stomach when he sends it.

_Kyle seems to think she misses her other dad. Wanna come over?_

Alex drops his phone on his chest so he doesn’t stare at it. It’s another long, long minute before his phone buzzes again. He takes a breath before he reaches for it.

Michael’s reply is just three words.

_On my way_

Buffy barely lifts her head up off the floor when there’s a knock at the front door. Alex walks down the hall to answer it, massaging the tight muscles in his right thigh as he goes. He straightens up when he reaches the door and opens it to find Michael standing there, looking gorgeous as ever in a dark green flannel that’s unbuttoned practically to the middle of his chest, his curls a little damp from the rain.

“Hey,” Alex smiles, stepping aside to let Michael in. “Thanks for coming.”

“How could I say no to that cute face?” he replies, but the way Michael looks him over as he says it makes Alex wonder whether he’s actually talking about Buffy.

He doesn’t have long to ponder _that_ particular nugget of information, though, because once Michael’s voice carries into the house, Alex hears the frantic sound of Buffy’s nails scraping his hardwood floors. Michael gasps a little theatrically when Buffy rounds the corner, barking as she barrels toward him at full speed down the hallway.

“Hi, baby girl,” he coos, crouching down to her level.

When she’s finally in front of him, she spins in excited circles at his feet, barking and panting while Michael pets her everywhere he can reach. It takes her a minute, but eventually she stops moving long enough to prop herself up on Michael’s knee so she can alternate between licking his chin and staring up at him with abject love and affection, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth.

It’s the happiest Alex has seen her in—God, he can’t even remember. He’d feel a little put out about it if he didn’t understand it on a deeply visceral level. When she looks up at Alex as if to say _Look! He’s back!_ Alex can’t help but bend down to pet her too.

For his part, Michael seems similarly affected. “Oh, I know, baby, I missed you too, I missed you too,” he’s saying with a wide smile. His eyes are wet when he looks at Alex and Alex’s throat grows tight with feeling.

 _Did Michael need this as much as Buffy did?_ Alex wonders when Michael breaks eye contact.

“Oh god, uh, Alex?” Michael says suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. “I think she had an accident.”

Alex spots the small puddle beneath her when Michael gets his hands under her arms and lifts her up onto her back legs.

“Shit, I’m sorry, hang on,” Alex says, making for the kitchen. “Make sure she doesn’t step in it!” he calls back on the way. He grabs the paper towels and some cleaner from the cabinet under the sink and heads back into the living room. “Sorry, she’s just excited,” he explains when he gets there.

“So I gathered,” Michael says, but there’s no hint of annoyance in his voice or on his face.

Alex cleans the mess quickly, and by the time he’s thrown out the used paper towels and washed his hands thoroughly Michael’s found himself on the couch in Alex’s living room. He’s lying back against the couch with Buffy on his chest, scratching right behind her hears as he talks to her. 

Seeing them like that reminds him of the first week they brought her home. He has a photo of the two of them sleeping on the couch together, her tiny head stuffed under his chin, and Alex’s heart aches remembering it. He wishes he’d been strong enough to tell Michael what he wanted. Maybe if he had, Michael wouldn’t be rebounding from his short-lived relationship with Maria and Alex and Buffy wouldn’t both be missing him so fucking bad all the time.

“Alex?”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, realizing he’s been standing there in silence for a few minutes.

“You okay?” Michael asks as he gives him an assessing look, his hand paused on Buffy’s back.

Alex realizes this is the first time in a long time that anyone’s asked him that.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lies, on instinct more than anything else. “You want something to drink?”

“I’d love a beer,” he says, and Alex welcomes the opportunity for a tactical retreat.

“You got it.”

He collects himself in the kitchen while he grabs two beers from the fridge, uncapping them before he walks back into the living room. Alex hands Michael his beer on his way to sit down on the other end of the couch. 

“Thanks,” Michael smiles as he takes the bottle Alex offers. Buffy sniffs the bottle when he goes to take a sip, but Michael holds it out of reach and explains, “No, this isn’t for puppies.”

Alex can’t help but laugh as he props his left elbow on the back of the couch to watch them.

Michael takes a long pull from the bottle and then sets it down on the end table next to him so he can keep petting Buffy uninterrupted.

“She really did miss me, huh?” Michael wonders aloud, as if the very idea that someone would is novel or unbelievable.

“Of course she did,” Alex says, placing his beer on the coffee table and scooting closer so he can pet her with his right hand. He doesn’t quite realize until it’s too late that he’s put himself right next to Michael, his right bicep almost brushing Alex’s chest. He studiously keeps his eyes on Buffy as he adds, “She loves you.”

Out of the corner of Alex’s eye, he sees Michael’s mouth turn up in a soft smile. “I love her too.”

They chat idly while Buffy soaks up Michael’s attention—Michael tells Alex all about a new experiment he’s working on with Liz that has exciting implications for something Alex would need at least two astrophysics degrees to understand, and Alex shares that he’s been keeping himself busy with music again, much to Michael’s delight.

After years of going back and forth between fucking Michael and fighting with him, it’s nice to just _talk_ to him for a change.

The conversation makes its way back around to Buffy when she shuffles her way up Michael’s chest to fit her nose right under his chin, her eyes drifting shut for a nap. When Michael laughs and drops a kiss on the soft patch of fur between her eyes, Alex’s finds the strength to take Kyle’s advice.

“Look, I, um,” Alex starts, shifting on the couch, “I was actually thinking maybe you could… come around sometimes. To play with her.”

“What, like visitation?” Michael asks with an eyebrow raised. “I get joint custody on the weekends?”

Alex can’t help but laugh. “You make it sound like she’s our kid.”

And, wow, he should _not_ have vocalized that thought because as soon as the words are out of his mouth Alex is hit by a whole fucking wave of feelings he does not have the time nor the ability to unpack right now, and by the look of it so is Michael.

“Hey, you’re the one who called me her dad,” Michael points out, a second too late for it to sound completely casual.

“Technically, Kyle did,” Alex flushes, but gestures to where Buffy is snuggled into his neck, finally at peace. “But look at her. She misses you.”

“Just her, huh?” Michael asks, so quietly that for a second Alex thinks he’s imagined it, but then Michael’s hand slides down from the back of Buffy’s neck to cover Alex’s own where it’s resting on her back.

Alex’s mouth goes dry. He chances a look at Michael, and what a fucking mistake that is because Michael’s honey-gold eyes are staring right at him and Alex forgets how to breathe.

“You miss me, too, Alex?” Michael asks, something that sounds a little like hope in his voice.

Alex looks at Michael for a moment, his head and heart at war the way they always are when it comes to him.

“Yeah,” Alex finally admits, a bone-deep exhaustion hitting him as the confession crosses his lips. “I do.”

Michael nods, processing that. “I miss you too,” he says after a long minute, his thumb stroking over the back of Alex’s hand, and Alex fights against the urge to pull his hand away because this doesn’t just feel important, it feels fucking monumental, but how can he even _think_ with Michael touching him like that?

“Stop,” Alex begs softly. “Please. If you don’t mean it, or if you’re not ready, I need you to stop.”

When Michael doesn’t say anything, Alex closes his eyes, the inside of his bottom lip caught tight between his teeth to keep from losing it. He’s felt like he’s on the edge of something all day and Michael sitting here, teasing him with the offer of more, it’s just _too much_.

Alex feels Michael let go of his hand, feels Buffy disappear from under his palm, hears his leather couch squeak under Michael’s shifting weight and _fuck_ how has he fucked this up already, he’s barely even _said_ anything—

Alex flinches when he feels the warmth of Michael’s palm against his cheek.

“Alex,” he whispers. “Open your eyes.”

Alex does, swallowing hard as he meets Michael’s gaze, his eyes shining with tears.

“I mean it,” Michael tells him, his expression sincere.

“You do?” he asks hesitantly.

“Of course, I do,” Michael says, leaning in to gently knock their foreheads together. Alex’s heart aches at Michael’s closeness, the familiarity with which Michael touches him. He never thought he’d get to experience it again. “God, Alex, I miss you so much I can’t breathe sometimes, I—”

Alex closes the distance between them without a second thought, finding Michael’s lips as warm and soft as he remembers. He pulls back a second later to apologize for cutting Michael off, for moving too quickly when he’s not even sure what exactly Michael wants, but Michael just makes a hurt noise low in his throat and follows after him for another taste, and then another.

Michael presses further and further into his space until Alex’s back hits the couch cushions with a soft thud, the top of his head brushing the armrest. Alex pulls away from Michael’s mouth with a slick sound, and as he gasps for air, Michael attaches his lips to a tender spot beneath his jaw and _sucks,_ igniting a fire low in Alex’s belly that threatens to consume him.

He can feel himself getting hard as Michael worms his way even closer. He guides Alex’s left leg to rest against the back of the couch as he settles his solid weight between his thighs, continuing to pepper his throat with wet, sucking kisses all the while. It’s not until Michael dips his tongue into the hollow of his throat that Alex’s hips lurch upward of their own accord, seeking the kind of relief only Michael can give him.

“Michael,” Alex moans, eyes slipping closed as his restless fingers weave into Michael’s curls.

Michael hums his response and slips his hands under Alex’s ass, encouraging him to grind their cocks together through the fabric of their jeans. It’s rough and hot, too much and not nearly enough, and along with his spiking pleasure comes the daunting thought that they’re moving too fast—that they’re about to make the same mistake they always do.

“Fuck, wait, we should—“ he begins to protest, but Michael interrupts him, groaning unhappily against the neckline of his t-shirt before he lifts his head to look at him. Alex’s eyes skip down to Michael’s mouth automatically, that tempting shade of pink making it _very_ hard to remember what he was thinking two seconds ago.

“Don’t tell me what we _should_ do,” Michael begs him, drawing Alex’s attention back up his face, to where his eyes are wide and more than a little desperate. “What do you _want_?”

Alex stares at him as that question hits his ears, a “ _What I want doesn’t matter”_ already on the tip of his tongue before his brain even catches up with him. He’s spent so long carrying those words in his head and in his heart that he barely notices their weight anymore—not until it’s Michael staring back at him and offering him everything he’s ever dreamed of.

This time’s no different, and Michael must see it on his face because the look in his eyes softens along with his voice as he asks again, “What do you want, Alex?” He reaches up to cup the side of his face, his thumb brushing featherlight across his cheekbone. “I’ll give you anything.”

Alex swallows roughly, his eyes burning with tears he can barely hold back.

“You,” he answers, perhaps more honest than he’s ever been. His voice trembles as he adds, “I just want you.”

A brittle smile breaks out on Michael’s face, his eyes shining in the lamplight before they flutter closed as he leans back down to kiss him again, slow and deep and wet.

Heat starts to simmer between between them once again, the soft press of Michael’s mouth and the tease of his tongue driving all other thought from Alex’s mind. Michael works his hands slowly under his t-shirt and Alex hardly notices it happening until Michael rolls his thumb over one of his nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin.

Alex groans and shivers at the sensation, using his prosthetic—planted firmly on the floor now—for any traction he can get to press his hips up into Michael’s lap.

Michael smirks against his mouth, and Alex can’t help but catch Michael’s full bottom lip between his teeth in retaliation, making Michael whimper so sweetly that Alex lets him go and soothes the bite with his tongue almost immediately.

Michael gives him one last kiss before he pushes Alex’s shirt as far up his chest as it can go and dips down to latch his mouth over his right nipple. Alex sighs and drops his head back against the cushions, his cock thickening even further as Michael teases it into a hard bud with his lips and teeth and tongue, playing with the other between his thumb and forefinger. He tugs it between his teeth and Alex gasps, arching his back and pressing his chest more firmly against Michael’s mouth.

After a few more minutes of teasing, Michael starts a slow slide downward, trailing wet kisses along the way as he charts a path down Alex’s belly toward the wiry hair peeking out above his belt.

“You want my mouth, ‘Lex?” Michael asks before dragging his tongue along the sensitive skin just above the waistband of his jeans.

Alex’s stomach clenches as he pictures it—Michael going down on him with singleminded focus, looking up at him beneath his lashes as he sucks on the head before taking him deeper, sinking down until the tip of his cock is snug inside his throat. He’s always looked so good with his head between Alex’s thighs.

His cock throbs painfully at the thought, desperate for Michael’s attention, but there’s something else on Alex’s mind right now, something he wants with a ferocity he can’t quite put into words.

“I do,” he says, softly tugging Michael’s hair to get his attention. “Up here.”

Michael stares at him a moment before he gets it, confusion fading as a fond smile takes its place. He slithers up Alex’s body until he can hover over his face.

“You want me to kiss you when I make you come?” Michael asks him, rubbing his nose along Alex’s cheek.

Alex nods, not trusting his voice.

Michael presses a soft, almost reverent kiss to his cheek.

“I can work with that,” he says, moving closer to his mouth. He kisses him again, not more than a peck, before he sits up and leans back, resting his weight on his knees between Alex’s spread thighs.

Alex mourns the loss of warmth, but he soon forgets it as Michael strips his flannel off his back and tosses it haphazardly behind him, revealing his toned chest and stomach. His mouth runs dry just looking at him and he quickly follows suit, yanking his bunched up t-shirt over his head and letting it fall gracelessly to the floor.

He starts on his jeans next, but Michael’s hands bat his out of the way, one cupping his cock through the denim while the other undoes his belt with practiced efficiency. He teases his crown with the tip of his finger for a torturous moment before Alex groans and he gets with the program, tugging Alex’s jeans and underwear down his hips just far enough to free his cock.

The relief Alex feels at no longer being so constricted is instantaneous, and Michael takes full advantage of the situation, curling his fingers around his shaft and thumbing through the moisture glistening at the tip. He spreads it down the length of him as he starts to jerk him off, not firm or quick enough to make him come, but enough to make the pleasure that’s been building inside him since they started this flare hot and insistent.

Alex catches his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from crying out as his hips twitch upward, fucking his cock into Michael’s grip. When he tears his gaze away from where Michael is playing with him, he sees honey-brown eyes staring back at him.

“What?” Alex asks, flushing under Michael’s attention.

“Nothing,” Michael smiles, shaking his head. “You’re just _really_ fucking pretty like this.”

Alex scoffs at that, but it only makes Michael more insistent.

“You _are_ ,” he says defiantly, squeezing his cock a little on the upstroke. Alex tries to bite back the moan building in his throat, but it’s easier said than done. “I mean, you’re always pretty, but when I’ve got my hands on you? _Shit_ , ‘Lex. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Oh yeah?” he shoots back, eyes drifting south toward the dark spot slowly bleeding through the front of Michael’s jeans. “Why don’t you show me?”

Michael rises to the challenge, letting go of Alex’s cock and getting to work on his ridiculous belt buckle. He shoves his own jeans and underwear down his thighs as quick as he can and seconds later Alex feels Michael caging him in as he covers his body with his own, pressing up into his space to kiss him just like Alex had asked him to.

He feels Michael’s cock poking into his belly, smearing precome against his skin, and Alex hooks his leg around him to bring him closer until their cocks are trapped between them. Alex breaks the kiss for just a moment, just long enough to lick his palm before he slips his hand down his belly to wrap his fingers around them both, making a tight, wet channel for them to fuck into. The sticky mix of spit and precome isn’t nearly as smooth as lube, but it’ll do.

“ _Uh_ , fuck,” Michael groans against his mouth as he begins to rock his hips forward in a slow, steady grind. “Been a while since we did it like this, huh?”

Alex hums in agreement as memories of the two of them in the back of Michael’s truck, rutting together on a makeshift mattress that smelled faintly of weed, flash through his mind. A lot’s changed since then, but the drag of Michael’s cock against his still feels just as good.

Michael starts to thrust in earnest then, and Alex’s burns with every slide of his cock against him, with every eager kiss Michael presses to his mouth. His heart is pounding against his ribs and blood is rushing in his ears, nearly but not quite loud enough to drown out all the perfect little sounds Michael keeps making in the back of his throat.

It’s not long before it all overwhelms him and Alex shudders as he comes, his balls drawing up tight and cock pulsing hot and wet between them. He gasps into Michael’s mouth, too far gone to remember how to kiss properly as his pleasure washes over him, inexorable as the ebb and flow of the rising tide and strong enough to pull him under.

Michael follows him a moment later, moaning sharply against Alex’s cheek as he spills over his fist, adding to the mess Alex made. Alex jerks him through it, milking him for all he’s worth until he hides his face in Alex’s neck and starts to whimper, overstimulated. Alex lets him go then and focuses on catching his breath as the last of his pleasure fades.

Michael’s the first to move, bumping his way back toward Alex’s mouth to kiss him again, lips raw and slick where they brush against his mouth. Alex cradles his cheek with his clean palm to hold him there as they trade kisses, neither one of them quite ready to break the spell that drew them back together. Alex loses himself to it, so much so that he barely registers the quiet patter of claws against wood drawing nearer until Buffy hops her front paws up onto the edge of the couch and starts to lick his cheek.

Alex makes a rather undignified noise at the sensation of Buffy’s tongue on his face—not to mention the smell of her breath—and Michael laughs against his mouth before he pulls away to look at her.

“I’m sorry, princess, were we ignoring you?” Michael coos, and Alex isn’t proud of the way Michael’s low, rasping voice makes his spent cock twitch.

Michael reaches over the edge of the couch, feeling around on the floor for a moment, until Alex hears a sharp squeak. Buffy barks happily, lowering down on her front legs and wagging her tail, and Michael throws one of her brightly colored toys as far as he can across the room.

“That ought to buy us 30 seconds,” Michael says, leaning up between Alex’s spread thighs. Michael’s bare chest shines as he reaches over for the box of tissues sitting on the coffee table, sticky with sweat and come. He grabs a few for himself and then offers Alex the box.

Once they’re as clean as they’re going to get, Michael zips up his jeans and gathers their dirty tissues to throw them out. Alex likewise tucks himself away and sits up on the couch, nervously awaiting Michael’s return.

He’s just reaching for his shirt on the floor when Michael comes back, his head cocked to the side as he looks at him curiously.

“What are you doing?” Michael asks, the corner of his lips pulling up into a lopsided smile. Alex gives him a questioning look, but Michael only steps closer and plants his hand on Alex’s chest, pushing him gently to lie back down. “I’m not done with you yet,” Michael explains.

Alex raises an eyebrow, but Michael just settles on his chest once more, tucked between Alex’s body and the back of the couch. He throws one leg over Alex’s thigh and his arm wraps around his waist, his chaotic mop of curls tickling Alex’s nose as he shifts to get comfortable.

The silence between them as they lie there is nice, simple in a way things rarely are for them.

That is, until Alex’s mind starts running away from him, age-old doubts and fears plaguing his thoughts. He loves Michael more than anything, but was falling back into bed so soon a mistake? Can they really make it work this time?

“Stop thinking,” Michael mumbles against his collarbone.

“Sorry,” Alex apologizes with a sigh, dropping a kiss into his curls. “I just…”

“Hm?” Michael prompts him when he doesn’t continue.

Alex takes a breath before he says, “I just can’t believe we just had sex on my couch without actually talking things out first.”

“Really?” Michael asks, leaning up to look at him incredulously. “You can’t believe that?”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Alex concedes with a laugh. “I just meant—I don’t know. I thought the next time we did this, we would be a real couple.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Michael’s face falls a little, his eyes sliding down to stare intently at Alex’s collarbone. He doesn’t pull away from him though, not yet, which Alex hopes means he hasn’t completely fucked this up.

“Who says we’re not?” Michael asks slowly, chancing a look back up at Alex’s face. Alex isn’t sure what he finds there, but it reassures him enough to joke, “I mean, we have shared custody of a fur baby remember? That sounds pretty serious to me.”

Alex laughs at that, his eyes warm and fond and maybe just a little misty.

“I love you,” he says, the words spilling out of him before he can contain them.

His heart seizes in his chest a little at the unexpected admission, but it’s worth it to see the joy on Michael’s face as he presses in close and whispers those words right back at him.

The next time it rains in Roswell, Alex wakes slowly to the sounds of soft laughter, rustling sheets, and raindrops tapping away at the roof overhead. He drifts in that space between sleeping and waking for a few moments, warm and content.

Buffy barks suddenly, pulling Alex firmly into the land of the living. He cracks open an eyelid to see Michael sitting up in bed and a very happy beagle demanding belly scratches on the comforter in front of him.

“Shh, daddy’s sleeping,” Michael scolds gently, and Alex’s heart feels so fucking full.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes and sits up, the movement drawing Michael’s attention.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” Michael says, casting a rueful smile over his shoulder.

Alex smiles and shakes his head, shifting closer so he can rest his head on Michael’s shoulder and pull him back against his chest. He rests his right palm over Michael’s heart, his fingertips dragging lightly through his chest hair.

“Never apologize for being here when I wake up,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. Michael ducks his head and smiles, his hand coming to rest over Alex’s on his chest.

Alex closes his eyes and breathes deep, the heady scent of petrichor filling his lungs.

Maybe rainy days aren’t so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, feel free to leave a kudos and/or a comment, but do NOT repost it to another site! Didn't think that was a thing I needed to say, but apparently people are trash 🙃
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@prouvaireafterdark!](https://prouvaireafterdark.tumblr.com/)


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